Ancestral Lineage

Chapter 194 War Preparation.

Madeleine looked at her mother, her green eyes flickering with uncertainty. Seraphina's presence had always been serene, almost otherworldly, and despite her soft voice, there was an undeniable weight to her words.

Seraphina smiled gently, brushing a stray strand of red hair from Madeleine's face. "Come," she said, turning away, her long dress flowing behind her as if caught in an unseen current.

Madeleine hesitated only for a moment before following.

The path they walked was bathed in twilight hues, the moon's light casting long shadows through the towering trees. The leaves shimmered, whispering in a language only the ancients could understand.

After a few moments, they reached a secluded grove, untouched by time. In its center stood a small altar, old yet pristine, with strange runes carved into its surface, glowing faintly with silver light.

Madeleine's breath hitched.

She recognized those runes.

"Mother... this is..."

Seraphina nodded, stepping forward, her delicate fingers grazing the surface of the altar. "This... is the culmination of a dream I once held. A wish I thought was long lost."

The air around them shifted.

The ground trembled ever so slightly. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire

Then—

CRACK!

The altar split open, not with force, but with purpose, revealing a small crystalline orb, pulsating with a deep, ancient power.

It wasn't just powerful—it was alive.

Madeleine's eyes widened as the orb floated into the air, drawn toward her. She could feel it—its warmth, its strength, its... longing.

"This..." Her voice came out in a whisper.

Seraphina's expression softened. "A piece of what I once desired most... now meant for you."

Madeleine's hands trembled as she reached for it, the orb responding as if it had been waiting for her all along.

As her fingers made contact—

The world vanished.

A rush of memories that weren't her own flooded her mind. Visions of ancient battles, of worlds long forgotten, of a power only second to that of a Creator.

And then...

A voice echoed within her soul.

"At last... you have come."

"If we're talking about large-scale improvements—power-boosting pills, supplementary elixirs, weapons, armor, support equipment like hoverboards, barrier deployers, camouflage bots—we'll require a vast amount of Mythril and Platinum, along with specialized metals and minerals. Some rare elemental crystals will also be necessary. In short, a massive supply of resources," Lord Tennyson explained.

"Give me an estimate," Ethan said. "Let's use buildings as a reference. How much space would be needed to store everything?"

"A stockpile that could fill the entire Assembly Hall," Tennyson answered.

Ethan exhaled through his nose, nodding. "We'll secure those resources soon enough. Now, how many races are involved in this war?"

"If we count all those enlisted, we have vampires, dwarves, fairies, felines, humans, a handful of demons, a few werewolves, youkai, ghouls... nearly every race we know of is represented," Lord Griswold replied.

"Good," Ethan said, his gaze sweeping across the council. "Grand Lord Trevor, all vampires are under your command. Grand Lord Seraphina, you'll oversee the dwarves. Lord Verna, as the strongest youkai present, you will assist Matriarch Clara in handling the youkai forces. Lord Steil and Matriarch Carmen, the felines are your responsibility. Lord Tennyson and Matriarch Lisa, you will manage the humans. Matriarch Pisces, you will lead the fairies. Grand Lord Lamair, the ghouls will follow your command. I will personally handle the remaining forces. If any of you require additional support, inform me immediately, and I will ensure it is provided.

"We move out in three days. Rally your troops. The crafting dwarves will assist the Tennyson family in forging the necessary equipment. Do not concern yourselves with resources—I will handle that matter.

"Grand Duke Vlad and Madeleine, you are the commanders of this war. You have full authority to act as you see fit. I care not for the process, only the results.

"Anbord will never fall to a clan of cowards. Every life lost will be repaid in blood and fire. The Blade Clan will know true despair."

...

Veryan City, once a proud and thriving part of Anbord, now stood as a conquered fortress under the iron grip of the Blade Clan. The towering structures, once symbols of progress and unity, bore the scars of war—cracked stone, scorched banners, and the lingering stench of blood. The streets, once filled with merchants and citizens, were now lined with armored soldiers, their eyes sharp and their weapons ready. What was once a city of life had become a city of occupation.

Inside the war chamber of the Blade Clan, the air was thick with tension. A massive obsidian table dominated the center of the room, its surface carved with a detailed map of Anbord and the surrounding regions. Above it, a shimmering projection displayed the movements of the resistance—Anbord's forces preparing to take back their land.

Seated at the head of the table was Grand Marshal Darius Blade, his cold blue eyes surveying the room with an air of amusement. His jet-black war armor, adorned with ancient sigils, pulsed with a faint, ominous light. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, his voice low and measured.

"They're finally making their move," he said, lips curling into a smirk. "Took them long enough."

Across from him, General Althea Veris studied the map with narrowed golden eyes. A battle-hardened hybrid, she had earned her place among the Blade Clan through sheer brutality. Her long black braid hung over one shoulder, and her enchanted combat suit hummed with barely restrained power.

"We should crush them before they reach the city," she said sharply. "If they reclaim Veryan, they'll regain a crucial foothold in Anbord."

"And risk exposing our defenses?" another voice countered smoothly. Silas Blade, the clan's Master of Tactics, leaned forward, his dark blonde hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. He had no visible weapons, but none were foolish enough to think him unarmed. "No, we let them come. Let them think they have the upper hand."

Darius arched a brow. "You have a plan, I assume?"

Silas tapped a section of the map, his voice as calm as ever. "We set up layered defenses along the outskirts. Make them believe they are winning. We let them push forward, only to find themselves trapped within the city's streets—funneled into positions where our true forces will be waiting. Meanwhile, we deploy a strike force to cut off their retreat. Once they realize their mistake, it will be too late."

Althea scowled. She preferred direct combat over deception, but she couldn't argue with results.

"And what about Ethan and Trevor?" she asked. "Both of them will be leading the charge. We can't afford to underestimate them."

Darius let out a deep chuckle, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "We have a Primogenitor of our own. Let them come. Let them believe their power is enough."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. None questioned the weight of his words. The Blade Clan had always been strong, but now, with a Primogenitor among them, they had become something far greater.

Veryan City was no longer just a fortress—it was a trap waiting to be sprung. And when Anbord's forces arrived, they would find only death waiting for them.

If only that was true...